


background

by DontTouchMySeaweedBrain



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Anorexic Scott, Eating Disorders, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontTouchMySeaweedBrain/pseuds/DontTouchMySeaweedBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Be a Better Scott McCall program™ is a long list. It’s got all the usual New Years Resolution things: study, get better grades, work more hours at the clinic, help out his mom, be a better friend. Lose weight.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I've been working on for a while. It's sort of a way for me to get out my personal issues on a character who I relate to. I hope you enjoy it.

           The _Be a Better Scott McCall program™_ is a long list. It’s got all the usual New Years Resolution things: study, get better grades, work more hours at the clinic, help out his mom, be a better friend. Lose weight.

            And at first it’s good. He’s better. He reads, does all the SAT practice, comes into the clinic religiously, works like his future depends on it on _everything_. He learns how to not burn the house down when he cooks, and he spends time with Stiles. Lots of time with Stiles. Things… change. There’s more touching. They’re… flirting. It kind of scares him, but he likes it. They practice lacrosse and they just breathe.

            It starts slow. He eats yogurt for breakfast instead of toasts, and salads instead of cheeseburgers when they go to Johnny’s. Stiles offers to take him to Rita’s, and he says yes to the date, but no to the Italian ice. He feels giddy afterwards, but he doesn’t have the excuse of a sugar rush.

            He goes for runs, long runs, fast runs, he can breathe now, and pull-ups, and he can life weights now and it _works._

            He feels accomplished when he looks at the scale, when he can rattle off facts about the Iliad without blinking whereas Stiles hasn’t even cracked the book yet (he does get a kiss for his efforts and Stiles’ mouth tastes like sour gummies), when Deaton and his mom beam at him when he remembers, and when Stiles rests his hands on his shoulders, when they trail down… It’s perfect.

            That feeling, like you’ve done something right, it’s like a drug. He craves it, the warmth that comes with it.

            It goes further; he skips breakfast to show up early and open the clinic-Deaton asked, Deaton trusted him enough to let him open-, Stiles gets a precarious position as a lifeguard, and they spend most days in the pool.

            He and Stiles are most definitely a thing now, and Scott craves the way Stiles’ hands will curl over him, always touching. Possessive. It feels good to be wanted like that.

            By the time he gets home, he’s so exhausted that he usually only makes one meal, for his Mom. He can’t eat the chicken pasta combinations that are the only acceptable shift food because they aren’t bad cold, so he just doesn’t.

            Soon enough, Stiles isn’t the only one who’s staring. Boys offer to buy him drinks, girls come up to him in groups. He’s faster in the water.    

            He feels strong, even if he is hungry.

            It becomes sort of a game. If I eat today, we’ll both make first string. If I don’t eat, Stiles will take the day off and we’ll go…

            The numbers go down on the scale and up on the practice tests, and he feels more in control than he has since Peter bit him.

            Then the full moon comes.

            It hasn’t hurt this much since his first one. The wolf feels hunger more acutely than he ever could, and it takes everything he has to stay where he is, to keep silent, keep still.

            He’s in the middle of The Outsiders, and his claws make little dents in the back of the paperback. He doesn’t exactly know what’s happening, but all of a sudden, Johnny’s dying, and Scott really can’t do this.

_Stay gold, stay gold, stay gold, stay gold,_ Don’t be gold, his eyes burn and the wolf is angry.        

            Very, very slowly, he gets up to find restraints he hasn’t needed in months. His control flickers, like a candle wavering in the presence of people.           

            He makes it through the night.

            It gets worse after that. The wolf is a constant presence, always pushing. He’s so hungry.

            But he can’t let the wolf win, it will consume him, it will hurt people. He’s scared.

            He drinks a lot of water. Starts wearing chapstick to savor the flavor. Chews on ice.

            Deaton still smiles so brightly when he walks in on a clean, open, successful clinic. His mom is grateful when he stops by. The lines of worry are starting to fade. He can’t lose control now.

            By now, he and Stiles have memorized their parent’s shifts, and take every opportunity to make out on available couches. Stiles is on top of him, and everything is fine, better than fine until he skims Scott’s sides, and pulls back.

            “Dude, when did you get so skinny?”

            They don’t swim anymore.

            He makes lists, keeps a bullet journal.           

            Writes poetry.

            Keeps his room clean.

            He’s fine.

            He’s perfect.

            Until the day Deaton opens up to find him passed out in the middle of the clinic, a small dog nosing at his hair.

            Deaton takes him to the hospital, marveling at his weight. He figures it out.           

            Melissa sees them take him in, and when she follows, she can count his ribs. She wonders how this could have happened.

            Stiles gets a call at five in the afternoon to hurry. He can fit his hand around Scott’s wrist and his grip tightens. He knows.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Drop me a line if you liked it or have time!  
> Love, Abby.


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